


Smoke to the Stars

by Ingeniarius_Mundos



Category: Amnesia: A Machine for Pigs
Genre: Alternate Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Inspired by the unused dialogue in the game files, References to blood and canonical horror, The Engineer has human form in this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:54:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26498962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ingeniarius_Mundos/pseuds/Ingeniarius_Mundos
Summary: In which Oswald Mandus is injured on his journey through the factory on New Year's Eve. The Engineer takes this as an opportunity.
Kudos: 4





	Smoke to the Stars

_But…will they be free?_

_Yes, my friend: drained and bled and freed from the prison of the flesh, free to ascend as smoke to the stars._

_And the good, the worthy? How will we save them?_

_Show me these worthy, Mandus. Show me these good. I do not see them!_

* * *

The shock wave of the revived reactor is so powerful that it splinters the thick safety glass of the control room window. It hits Mandus with the force of a steam locomotive and sends him hurtling into the opposite wall like a rag doll. All the breath is driven from his body, his chest constricting agonizingly. He feels several ribs crack and his left leg twists at an unnatural angle, but the sound of rupturing bone is lost in the roar of power rushing back into the system. All about him is a terrible, booming voice: the voice on the phone. So very like his own it seems, yet colder, more ruthless. The voice was hushed and urgent over the intercom, but now it shakes the floor, thrumming with a barely-contained, malevolent delight. Stranger still, it seems to come from inside the machine itself. It resonates in the corridors and the conduits as it thunders:

" _I live! I breathe again! I rise, I will rise to bleach the sky and still the water! I will spin the world wheel and set the future upon the path to redemption!_ "

Betrayed. He has been betrayed. Mandus has a fleeting recollection of the strange fuel rods bathed in blue water, the dizzying sense of power he felt in their presence. He thinks he may have glimpsed the Machine's true purpose there beneath the reactor, and his blood runs cold at the thought of it.

"Where are my children?" he gasps. "You promised me my children!"

" _My time is come!_ " crows the voice. " _More pig! MORE PIG!_ "

Amidst a blackening daze, movement draws Mandus's eye. Tilting his head, he finds Edwin and Enoch standing before him – but something is wrong, terribly wrong. Blood mars their golden hair and trickles from their mouths and eyes, and their skin is much too pale. In unison, they reach into their jackets and hold out their hearts to him.

Something clicks into place deep in the recesses of Mandus's memory.

The revelation is so soul-shattering that it never surfaces from his subconscious mind. Every fiber of his being screams against it, denies it, pushes it back into oblivion before it can tear him apart. The effort is too much for his wounded body. It mingles with his guilt, terror, pain, grief. Combined, these things form an iron vice that drives him into unconsciousness.

_Boys…boys. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry._

He vaguely remembers half stumbling, half crawling to the lift, dragging his shattered leg behind him. He emerges in the engine room knowing only one thing: he must stop this force of destruction he has unleashed upon the world. Reeling and retching with pain, he tears out as many of the smaller steam conduits as he can. The pressure backdraft will only be temporary, but maybe, just maybe, it will stall the system. If the voice on the telephone was the Machine, then that means Mandus was – and is once more – the saboteur.

His injuries are severe. They cloud both his vision and his judgment, making him clumsy. He sees too late that one of the pipes is hissing and spitting, and he catches a breath of boiling steam. The heat sears his throat, choking him, then all is blackness again.

When next he wakes, Mandus is lying near another lift. His vision refuses to clear, but he thinks he must be at street level now, for he feels a night breeze on his face. Did one of the Man-pigs bring him here? Why did they spare him? Whatever the reason, he is tempted to lie here forever with the breeze cooling his heated skin, soothing the throbbing ache in his sides and leg. It would be so easy just to drift off to sleep. For too long has he carried this world on his back. If it is to be destroyed tonight, let it be so. If it is to be saved, let it be so – but let others make that choice. Mandus has no will left to face either his shame or his responsibility.

Then suddenly, a Man-pig roars and the ground shudders as several of the massive abominations charge past him and out into the London streets. The screams of the city-dwellers bring Mandus sharply back to his senses. What was it the voice in the Machine urged him to do as he approached the reactor's ignition switches? _Set them free, set them all free!_

And with that, the pieces fall into place.

_Oh, no. Oh, God, no; what have I done?!_

He feels something in the air just beside him then, something like a smile. With it comes a presence. It is filled with a power and a hate such as Mandus has never known, and yet, it is also strangely familiar. It is as if he is sensing the presence of his own soul, but reflected in a dark and twisted mirror.

With infinite dread, he forces himself to look up.

The face above him is very like his own. It has the same dark hair and dark eyes, the same fine features. But the lines of this other Mandus's face are sharper, his hair wilder and blacker, and his eyes are cold and crackling with loathing. This hatred does not seem to be directed at Mandus, however: the hand resting on his shoulder is quite gentle. It is then that Mandus notices the gold bands encircling the stranger's arm. He lifts his eyes and sees the jaguar furs draped over his companion's shoulders like a mantle, the many-colored feathers in his hair, the war paint on his cheeks, the turquoise and gold of a gleaming neckpiece on his breast. A stone pendant rests on his chest, wrought in red, green, and gold and shaped like –

Like a pig's head.

Mandus's mind explodes with memories. A slumbering temple in the Mexican jungle. A stone egg glowing blue. His children's hearts in his palms. A great bifurcation. A gentle voice so like his own, dreams of a great machine. Steam and fire, blades and blood. Death – so much death. A man, dressed in jaguar skins and feathered like a blooded saint. Carving a new god for the world, ripping the future loose from the ribcage of the present. Feeding the rich, feeding the poor. Feeding _on_ them. The Professor, skinned and tossed into the maw of the Machine by Mandus's own hand for asking too many questions. Precious eagle cactus fruit. Fuel rods glowing in the half-light. Blue water. The egg of the world. Cleansing fire, burning, a very great burning –

The horror must have shown in his face, for the stranger beside him cants his head and asks, "Why so frightened, Mandus? Do you not know your Engineer?"

The scalding steam has left him with no voice, but in his mind, Mandus screams.

888

"I had one of the Man-pigs bring you here, though for a time I feared you had been killed. I would not wish you to miss this, Mandus, not after all you've done. This night, our great works shall come to fruition at last. You deserve to see it."

Mandus says nothing. His heart is full of hate for the being at his side, this creature who calls himself a god. There is a current of awe and terror as well, for even he cannot deny that his companion certainly could be divine. He thrums with a barely-contained power, and his countenance is the most brutally expressive Mandus has ever known. Despite the horror that has seized his mind, he cannot stop himself from shaking. _What if this Engineer is all he claims to be? What if he speaks the truth?_

"I need only a few souls more," the Engineer goes on, undaunted. "Just a small sacrifice now, and I will have enough strength to spill that blue water and split the egg. These few streets here will be sufficient. Come midnight, I will fling the last switches and unshackle the full power of the Machine." He sighs, a soft sound full of longing. "I am so close now."

Again, Mandus is silent.

"Come now, you cannot still be angry. Surely you must realize that this is the only way to spare humanity from even greater suffering."

"To take their lives from them!" Mandus rasps bitterly.

An explosion of gunpowder rocks the nearest street, and flames leap up in several buildings. By the orange glow filtering through the bay doors, Mandus sees hunger in the Engineer's face. It is a raw, visceral thing. He doubts the Engineer could suppress it if he tried. It runs in his blood. The thought does not comfort Mandus one bit, for if he is correct in thinking that this self-proclaimed god is indeed part of his soul…then that hunger runs in Mandus's blood also.

Presently, the Engineer nods fervently and says, "Yes, I will take them from their painful, pointless lives. What better blessing could I give them than to scoop them out of the gutters and lift them to the skies? Through their blood, I shall inherit my godhood, and in return, they shall inherit the stars."

"Blessing? This is a curse!" Mandus snaps. The strain makes him cough, jarring his broken ribs. He presses his face to the floor, biting his lip against the tears that spring to his eyes.

The Engineer cocks his head, the gold bands on his wrists and neck jingling softly. There is confusion in his eyes. "It is _mercy_ , Mandus."

Mandus's heart sinks, weighed down by a strange mix of revulsion and pity. "You truly don't understand," he whispers with breathless dread. "You truly think that slaughtering the people is best for them."

"And not only this city. Come midnight, I will burn away the ruins of this rotten world and set them all free, and then…" the Engineer sighs, sounding almost weary, "…there will be peace."

The full knowledge of what he has unleashed upon the world takes Mandus's breath away. Worse still is the crushing helplessness. Even if he knew how to stop this madness, he could not do it: his wounds are far too grave. He is damned, and so is humanity. Shamefully, pitifully, he begins to weep in earnest.

To his horror, the Engineer responds as a father to a frightened child. He lifts Mandus's head into his lap, murmuring gently, "It's too much, isn't it? These past months have been difficult for you, I know. The world took your wife and your children, and no one understood why you built the Machine. But I understand, Mandus. I am your friend. I share your vision. You gave me life. You saved me and steeped me in blood and gave me the strength to ascend. You have made me, and I will make the world anew. I will slaughter all the pigs and save the world for you."

The sincerity in these words is almost childlike. This only deepens Mandus's dread. He does not welcome the gentle hands on his shoulders, those hands that confuse murder with mercy and slaughter with salvation. There is no blood to be seen, but Mandus knows it is there, and he wants no part of it.

And yet…it stains his hands as well. He knows he has been a willing collaborator in all he sees around him. This vast empire of death is as much his as it is the Engineer's.

He bows his head and weeps. His companion's hand rubs up and down his shoulder, ever so soothingly. In the end he is too exhausted to feel the explosions that rock the streets.

He looks up at the Engineer. Perhaps it is merely the blurring of tears or the firelight glow, but Mandus sees agelessness in his face. It terrifies him.

888

Mandus fades in and out of consciousness for an interminable period, catching nightmare glimpses of fire and screams. It is unbearable, hanging suspended in limbo this way, unable to help the people in the streets. More than once, he wishes for death. But then, this is a fitting punishment: a box seat to watch as horrors of his own designing are unleashed upon the world.

His reality shrinks inward. It narrows further and further until all that exists is the Engineer's deceptively gentle voice, crooning something in an ancient language. Mandus has heard such things before. This was how it all began: with a song murmured as he burned with fever, dreams of a dark machine, a promise of salvation. Mandus did not understand the words then, and he does not now, but this time he is not deceived. Beneath the soothing tones are invocations of blood, he is sure. What else would the Engineer sing of this night?

Part of Mandus wants to spurn the caressing hand that rests on his head. He knows that if all were made visible, he would see those long, elegant fingers trailing bones and ashes behind them. Even so, another part of him does not want to reject the gesture. In the wildest reaches of his mind, he hopes desperately that the creature beside him is a god, that he is doing what is best for the world and not committing an unthinkable evil. There is no chance that any of this can be stopped now. All Mandus can do is pray that somehow, it will be all right.

Even as he sinks back into oblivion, he knows this is a madman's hope.

An eternity later, the Engineer shakes him gently awake. "Time to go, I think."

 _Go where?_ Mandus thinks uneasily.

"You can't possibly walk in this state," the Engineer goes on, as casually as if he were arranging an afternoon tea, "not such a long way. Have you the strength to put your arms about my neck?"

Mandus does. He does not _want_ to, but then, what choice does he have?

He lifts his leaden arms and clasps his hands at the back of the Engineer's neck. Beneath his fingers, he feels the intricate beading of his counterpart's neckpiece. He forces himself to focus on this fragment of reality to keep the world from crumbling away.

He seems to weigh absolutely nothing to his companion. His broken bones are scarcely jarred as the Engineer lifts him into his arms. "It will be a bit cold for you, little Mandus," he says. "Stay close to me. I have no desire to lose you along the way."

Mandus has no idea what this means, and he does not want to know. He can't think properly anymore. The Engineer's skin is warm, growing warmer all the time, and more than that, he exudes a dizzying sense of power that muddles Mandus's thoughts. It leaves him lightheaded and tingling. Is this the effect of that godless Compound X? Does the same concoction flow through the Engineer's veins?

Mandus is glad of his foggy mind soon enough, for if the night has been horrifying thus far, the downward journey is a descent into hell. The Engineer takes them down a narrow culvert between the factory and the manor, unperturbed by the near-blackness. Occasionally, a flicker of moonlight illuminates streams of blood pouring from the drainage pipes on their left and pooling beneath the catwalk. At first he thinks the wall of the manor stands to his right, but he soon realizes that several things are terribly wrong. There are gaps in the stonework here and there, and through them he catches a glimpse of a Man-pig devouring a human corpse at the dining room table. The snorting sounds are positively unholy. A waterfall of blood cascades over one of the walls. Further on, he sees a Man-pig sitting in the nursery, methodically building a tower of blocks while Edwin and Enoch's empty cradles rock in the darkness. Mandus blinks, and suddenly there are not two cradles, but three.

Further on, they pass a high wall lined with stained-glass windows. The two on either side depict the engines and wheels of a great machine. In the middle window is a figure in a loincloth with the body of a man and a face that is at once animal and human. He holds aloft the heart of the pig bleeding at his feet. Strangely, the priest appears to be weeping.

Mandus does not know how much of this is hallucination and how much is reality. He prays none of it is real. Surely there cannot be so much blood. Surely he is not responsible for the deaths of so many! Mandus does not have the courage to ask if the Engineer can see these things too, for he could not bear an affirmative answer. That would certainly tip him over the edge of madness. He presses his face into his companion's neck and allows that thrumming sense of power to drown out the world.

The air turns colder and frost forms on Mandus's coat sleeves. He wonders how the Engineer can possibly be growing warmer by the moment, dressed as he is for the jungles of Mexico. His warmth keeps Mandus from shivering, but inwardly, he is going numb. Try as he might to accept responsibility for what he has done, the thought that this is _his_ apocalypse is too much. His mortal mind cannot fathom the cosmic implications. To save the last shreds of his sanity, he steadily freezes his heart.

The cold deepens as they descend, both without and within. It is an indescribable relief not to think or feel.

They pass through a place where vast storage tanks hum and electricity crackles through the air, and Mandus knows they must be near the heart of the Machine. He can smell the acrid, metallic tang of Compound X. He suspects that this is where mass quantities of it are distributed to all the Machine's critical components.

The humming changes. It deepens until it is felt more than heard, and its pulse slows. Amidst the vibrations, Mandus discerns something that sounds like a heartbeat, rapid and excited. He lifts his head just in time to catch a glimpse of the heart itself, suspended by four metal arms above this subterrene pylon they have climbed. He never learns if it is human. At that moment, the Engineer lifts a hand, lightning cracks, and the world splinters.

In that split-second, they are in another place altogether.

He scarcely has time to register the shock of what has just happened. Somewhere in his mind, he recalls that space is unstable in these deep reaches of the factory. Have they quite literally flitted between worlds?

They stand now in a dimly-lit corridor, facing a rounded steel door bearing Mandus's company crest. He never noticed until now how much the arrangement of the letters resembles a pig's face.

The Engineer flicks his wrist and the door rolls aside, seemingly at his will.

The awesome sight that awaits them startles Mandus from his numb torpor. They have come to a cavernous underground chamber. A walkway lies ahead, and at the end, looming through the inky dark, is the silhouette of a massive pyramid. It is every bit as if someone has reproduced an Aztec temple here beneath the earth. Small electric lights lend only scant illumination to the stone steps, as if it would be a grave sin to disturb the darkness. Mandus can scarcely make out the summit, but it seems as though it is entwined with the Machine itself. A corona of cables as thick as tree branches sweeps downwards towards the peak. Mandus becomes aware of a subtle hum, as if here the vibrations of the universe, colored by blood and death, have taken on a melancholy pitch. The stillness is palpable, like a cathedral.

"Behold the seat of my empire," says the Engineer as he bears Mandus effortlessly up the stone steps. "I am its high priest. Here I will bathe the world in cleansing fire and make it pure. Be proud, for you have made it all possible. Until you touched the stone egg, I was nothing but a shadow upon your soul. You gave me life, and for your sacrifice you shall be rewarded."

This casual reference to the moment he killed his children sends a wave of pain rushing back through Mandus's body. It reminds him with crushing force of what he has done, and what he cannot now prevent. Even if he were not so injured, he can tell from the heat of the Engineer's skin that his other half is now powerful enough to snap Mandus's neck with one finger. It is over, for him and for humanity. He has lost.

Within all living things is an instinct for self-preservation, and even now, at this late hour, Mandus is no exception. He is keenly aware of the shadow of death that hangs over him, and he begins to panic. Desperately, he lifts his face to the hard one above him and asks, "Why are you doing this? Do you truly hate mankind so very much that you would destroy us all?"

The Engineer's silence is thoughtful. "I did, once. Even now I scorn your inability to protect your own world, but I suppose I pity you more than anything. What I do tonight is an act of mercy, Mandus. I have seen the future, and it is far better that your kind perish now than suffer through the century that awaits you."

"Our future is not yours to decide!"

"Of course it is. Why would I have been entrusted with such visions were I not meant to save you? Mortal minds are too weak to make such critical choices. I have seen that all too often."

Mandus feels sick. This being, this damaged fragment of his soul, is utterly convinced of his own divinity. There will be no reasoning with him. In the Engineer's mind, he is no longer a part of Oswald Mandus; he is akin to Huitzilopochtli himself, lord of light, war, and sacrifice. What did he say on the telephone not two hours ago? _Precious eagle cactus fruit_. How could Mandus have taken those words as a desperate plea for help?

They have reached the summit of the temple. Where there ought to be an altar, there is only a strange metal throne, and before it is a console bearing a single switch. In a rounded depression on the panel is the Orb, glowing softly. Its innocent appearance is galling. It is the source of all Mandus's grief, and he hates it. He is seized by the sudden desire to smash it to pieces, and he might have tried had he not known it would never work.

His gaze falls on the two pillars standing on either side of the console, each topped with a silver spike. Impaled on these, pulsing blue with Compound X, are two hearts. He knows at once that they are his children's hearts, the sacrifices that gave his false god life. He feels something crack deep within his soul. Even as he prays once more that this is a hallucination, he finds it impossible to breathe.

Remorseful tears prick at his eyes. "You will damn us both to hell if you do this!" he gasps.

The Engineer sits beside the throne, easing Mandus down with that paradoxical gentleness. He brushes the tears from Mandus's face.

"There is no hell," he says simply, "unless I desire it. Even if there was such a place, it would not be for you. No, my maker, my Mandus, you will be richly rewarded for all you have done for me. Don't be frightened. This will be very quick."

The utter sincerity in the Engineer's voice is the tipping point. All the madness, all the terror, all the grief and shame of the past months cohere into one deadly force and land squarely on Mandus's shoulders. It's too much; it's all too much.

He begins to weep brokenly. He has no strength to resist as the Engineer takes Mandus's hand in one of his and reaches up to the console with the other. _This is not what I meant! This is not what I meant at all!_ he thinks desperately. Perhaps it is more of a prayer, a last plea to whatever gods might have mercy on his soul, or at least avert the imminent apocalypse.

In the glow of the Orb, the Engineer's face is filled with longing and anticipation. He caresses the blue stone reverently, feeling its power flowing through him and the Machine, giving them strength for the task ahead. Never did he think, in those first confused moments after his birth, that he would be sitting here on the brink of godhood, having rendered his own creator obsolete. After all the months of struggle and pain, his work is nearly done. He has never felt more like a deity. Mandus's tears still trouble him, but perhaps it is only natural that such a feeble mortal mind should fear the end.

"Hush now," the Engineer says, tucking Mandus's head on his shoulder. "It will all be over soon, and you will suffer no more."

The Engineer's clockwork heart begins to beat rapidly as the moment of salvation approaches. The air vibrates around him; soon they will be aflame. He has waited so very patiently for this, and though he knows his apocalypse will last but a few seconds, it will be worth it.

Far above him, he hears a church bell begin to toll midnight. The Orb pulses more brightly. He clasps the switch on the console. It is time: time to end all things and deliver humanity to the stars.

He has never been so happy in all his life.

He tips his head back and closes his eyes. Then, savoring every word, lingering over each beautiful syllable, he utters his final decree:

" _Let there be light!_ "

The switch is pulled. Mandus screams hoarsely into the Engineer's shoulder.

There is an infinitely bright, blinding flash, and then there is nothing at all.


End file.
